


Hasty measures.

by Madame_V



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Time, M/M, Pent-up Feelings, Sexy Times, romantic sex, sexy bastards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3794182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_V/pseuds/Madame_V
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Persistence spin off. Sometimes there have been enough words. After all, sex can be a mean of communication.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hasty measures.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Persistence.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2264133) by [Madame_V](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_V/pseuds/Madame_V). 



> So we came up to this point. Pent up feelings finally having a way out, you know how sexuality in a relationship is very important. Well, for me it's a way of communication and that's a major pillar of the relationship. Of course this mean of communication is the most fun and pleasurable ever, so I'll try my best to make it less raw and needy, instead taking it to the sexy notes. This one shot is set after the chapter Halfway in Persistence.
> 
> I'm really sorry it took me so long to update, but I've been busy with moving out of my old house. Buying furniture and whatnot. My head's a fabela of thoughts right now, so updates might come regularly from next week on. Thank you so much for waiting and reading. I would love to know what you think of this piece in the comments, otherwise I WOULD FEEL FORCED TO SHARPEN MY KNIFE, the proverbial kind, and give you a piece of my mind. Nah. Just because your thoughts and corrections and critique are very helpful for me, since (I repeat) English is not my native language.
> 
> Hope to hear from you.  
> All my love to you, sweethearts!

Upon entering Gregory's car Mycroft continued to text and resume the last few meetings and upcoming operation changes, new variables had to be added and suspects to be traded for new higher or lower objectives, the complex movements and drifts in power dynamics of the world. This was exactly the position he had worked for since finishing with his very last thesis for uni, ensuring a fruitful career. A simple cover at the Department for Transport and a deep imbedded post as a freelance Operations Director for the MI6. The youngest since Mr. Heathley's predecessor.

One way or another 30% of his attention was placed on the man sitting next to him sending a few texts himself. It took a few moments of silence before Mycroft managed to extricate himself from work. It had been a good four minutes since Greg started the car, put on his seatbelt and turned on the radio where The Sex Pistols yelled profanities at the Queen and Country. Greg tapped distractedly to the tune on the steering wheel, muscles relaxed and fingers restless. (Chords. Guitar player. Learnt at 15, still plays.) The red-head swept his eyes once over the older man, experienced enough to look at his crush without simply stopping at the manner in which his jacket looked terribly flattering around his shoulders and waist, or how his trousers left too much to imagination, since the man was wearing a comfortable suit that would allow to run after felons unwilling to let themselves be caught at warning or perhaps crouch and move through difficult crime scenes. Cheap suits that he wouldn't mind staining and tear in the field. A practical man made a clever man, after all. Self-aware, wary of others, careful, thoughtful but dogmatic (Astute). Truly enjoys punk (Ghastly. Sexy.). Stress lines in his brow and the stains under his armpits spoke of a complicated day (Two of us, my dear.).

“I would love to let you watch me all night like that, Mike, really. But I'll need directions, we're ‘bout to get into Kensington high and I'm not sure exactly where you live” Blinking in a nanosecond of confusion, Mycroft slowly looked up from Gregory's bicep and into his eyes. Greg’s eyes trained on his own deep brown, deeply amused, and that ever present smirk was doing nerve-wracking things to Mycroft’s decency.

Oh, for pity's sake, Mycroft, how tired can you possibly be to stop sensing the car unmoving around you as he stopped at a red light? The red haired man sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking ahead “Mother has told you I live here, I presume” Greg hummed noncommittal and Mycroft huffed annoyed (4 minutes. Long light) narrowing his eyes and looking at Greg “Take Queens Gate, before it comes Old Church, I'll guide you from there” he said in his ever quiet tones, as Greg drove Mycroft kept his eyes trained on him “She told you of my food likes and dislikes”.

Rolling his eyes only slightly “Come on, Mycroft. Focus, I need directions. The light won’t be red forever” said the overworked man with the amusement still deep in his eyes.

“Possibly of my hidden per chant for sweets if that chocolate box you have in the back of my seat is anything to go by. She has told you I was home-schooled and when I was taken to a school Eton and Harrow sponsors fought over me. Also told you I was a decent football player by eighth grade. She told you some stories as well…” he narrowed his pale eyes further and Greg blinked with a tale-telling smirk “Oh, she hasn’t-“.

“I think it was adorable that you defended little Sherlock like that… But being a second DAN in taekwondo wasn’t something I expected”

“When you are smart enough to be able to tell that your classmates parents are cheating on each other in second grade, it is only sensible that one should know how fend for oneself” said Mycroft looking ahead again “Green light.” He said without looking ahead and a little smirk as the brunette flinched and looked up muttering ‘Bugger’. An angry cabbie screaming at them as he passed by.

Sighing Greg set the car in motion again, saluting in apology “Yakked much, did you?”

“Shut up” Mycroft massaged his temple; he would need to have a deep conversation on the matter of disclosing embarrassing truths to stranger with his mother. She might believe that she’s simply being a proud mother, but instead she is becoming rather insistent in making people see him as an overprotective older brother and a fatty who simply couldn’t resist the sight of biscuits and cakes.

“I don’t know it’s kind of sexy in a noble way. You breaking someone's arm because you were fending for your baby brother” was all Greg had to say to break the silence and send all apprehension within Mycroft’s thoughts into an abrupt halt. He blinked looking ahead, in confusion. Sherrinford was the charming one. Sherlock was the attractive one. Mycroft was the smart one. He could easily adapt and attract but not by his nature or looks, after spending nine months driving Greg away, there he was sitting and telling him he was sexy.

Turning to give the man a closer inspection not as tall as Mycroft but an inch away from Sherlock, winning smile and even if there were the signs of heart-break and trials in his deflated posture, he could show confidence in his manner of walking. Mycroft saw the grief past fake joy, most times. Finding a tolerant, collected and tenacious man behind that veil of emotion was simply luck. He used dark humor as armor and distracted himself in simple ways. Greg oozed of healthy and organic. His giving nature was remedy to every need.

Somehow something took pity in his reeling mind as he tried his best not to blush over being caught admiring his companion at what appeared to be another red light. What’s happening, Mycroft? Focus. Greg placed a hand softly behind the back of Mycroft’s head and pulled him slowly to that lovely grin he could master when knowing something untold and kissed the younger man. Simply a chaste kiss that tasted of 'Hello' and 'Welcome home'. Mycroft sighed as they parted and said “Green light” before Greg could take another go at his lips.

He simply muttered “Damn, every driver in London will hate me” and got going, taking every turn and indication from the owner of the house when they finally got to Elysian Place. Crossing his arms over the steering wheel and looking up at Mycroft's duplex, Greg simply said “Nice place”.

“Thank you. Although I have been thinking of taking myself outside of town, I find London to wear on my nerves sometimes” Mycroft was gathering his briefcase and belongings when he looked at Greg's unmoving form with a question in his eyes.

Letting Greg form his own assessment for a few moments “Think I'll be going home for tonight, you look knackered, mate” he said with that little joyful smirk and a bit of sadness in his brown eyes.

Mycroft sighed exasperated “Do not be ridiculous” and with that he closed the door knowing that Gregory would follow suit with the bag they had placed in the boot of the car. Opening the front door he said “I thought you would be making me dinner and staying for the night, consider this a third date if you will” Greg's eyebrows shot up and a thin smile formed on his lips. Mycroft simply rolled his eyes and entered leaving his coat and umbrella in the coat stand beside the door, turning to the older man expectantly “Whatever has you so entertained?” he said frowning and crossing his arms before his chest.

Greg snorted “Come on, Mike. Really, your head will fall on your pillow and you'll be out like a light. I'm already surprised that you managed to fight your assistant into leaving you alone for the night, in a slightly rude manner by the way, and... Well, stand here as we speak, honestly... Just give me a kiss goodnight and you can go to bed in peace”.

Blinking once, then twice Mycroft smiled deviously “Certainly, Gregory. I can accommodate you with a goodnight kiss” the man leaning against the doorframe of the open door smiled defiantly and frustratingly unmoving. Of course he should know better than to ask that of an agent taught to use sex as a mean to obtain what he wanted if needed. Of course Mycroft used any other mean available, but he could be accommodating enough as to treat this special case as an exception.

It shouldn't have surprised the Detective Sergeant to be pulled in and pinned against the closed door, or having covetous hands running up his sides. Over his broad chest (Football, of course. Occasional rugby match.). Up his neck and into salt and pepper hair. Talented fingers dancing over the collar of his wrinkled shirt after a long day, it was easy to tell that his resolve to leave was slowly melting as he responded to the kiss, even if his hands were carefully and firmly placed at Mycroft's hip. Trying to contain the storm that was their joined lust finally breaking free.

After a few minutes of trying to resist, between feverish kisses that shivered through his entire form. Mycroft had to admire the unwavering grip the older man kept on his resolve, but it was hardly surprising after witnessing as a silent observer how he approached once and over again throughout these past months, so naturally clever yet infuriatingly simple, astonishing romantic and sensual in his defiance. So when Mycroft pressed every inch to Greg's form, making them both sigh and promptly forget about dinner.

“Mike” Greg’s voice grated on his every last nerve and resolve not to have the man right there against the closed door “Listen, Mike. Shite” he muttered breathlessly, apparently his neck and shoulders could be rather sensitive, good. But then he pressed Mycroft’s taller form away and looked up unfocused and strong-willed as ever, panting and close to giving in but still making sure “Are you… Ah… Sure you prefer to have this now? I’m as worn as you are and one would expect-“

Mycroft groaned in frustration placing two fingers on his forehead, and closing his eyes dramatically. Greg lifted an eyebrow smirking “If you need a confirmation, then I shall give you that. I am tired, I am overworked and I know of your state” he opened his eyes and said “You have a trial to attend tomorrow afternoon, two pending cases on the disappearences of the girls and it is a close wrap, you have been rather dedicated and you have stayed up taking care of the details of your Inspector’s paperwork, since he is closer and closer to turning in to blissful retirement. You are frustrated that the coffee machine doesn’t work and you have to take time to prepare coffee in the kitchen, stained your shirt, by the way. Shaking hands speak of lack of sugar in your diet, you forgot to have lunch today and ate at the airport waiting for me. How did I do?”

Greg whistled, staying silent for a few moments “You need to ask?” he enquired with that little smirk still in place. It was somewhat infuriating that he woudln't take offense in his ability or transparency.

“All I wish to ask for is for you to take off your clothes” he said taking a step into Greg’s personal space “Immediately”.

There was little to talk about from that moment on. Jackets soon fell to the floor as Greg muttered ‘Bossy bastard’ making Mycroft smile in victory, as his tie followed swiftly. Greg's shirt was left behind somewhere around the hallway and Mycroft religiously mapped every inch of exposed skin.

They walked intertwined. Backwards and onwards, into the hallway and up the stairs. Pulling each other, needs pressing. They halted their kisses simply to look at each other in the dark, smile at each other in exhilarated wakefulness. Long, pale hands pressing to the small of Greg’s back pushing him impossibly close and rough skin of Greg’s own fingertips grazing the other man’s jaw.

Mycroft decided to give a chair a finer use than being decorative trait for his flat’s hallway. Nobody ever sat there, possibly because he rarely invited people over and even less people had come to the private part of his house. It was too easy for Mycroft Holmes to bring himself to his knees with stars in his pale eyes as he licked Greg's clothed erection and undid the man’s old trousers, lowered pants just enough. Teasing the man’s nipples, adoring his chest and flat navel with lips and tongue.

Greg sighed and moaned rebelling in the sensations. It was a delight to see him so close to be moved, when he was always such a collected tease. Biting his lower lip in despair as Mycroft hummed. Greg looked down and pulled the man up for a deep kiss, no gentleness left. Just raw lust. Mycroft answered with a sigh, climbing up and returning to this hectic snog session.

The older man was in luck that he was tired enough not to have pushed him simply inside the study and have his way over that mahogany desk he kept. The very one where he sat that first time he received a stranger's text and unsurprisingly found a very impressed man on the other end. But the stairs and the bedroom were a better option, an option this man had earned in a way.

The responses were lovely in all their forms. Even if Mycroft hadn't found the need to do this in quite a while and would have preferred to sleep under other conditions, he silently relished in every button he opened and every part of his clothes torn and pulled away from his body. They stopped to simply look at each other every once in a while, smile and kiss at the palms of the hands, or cheeks.

Too long since he had pictured this for the first time, distractedly after talking of frames and ninjas with this distracting menace of a person. He smiled at Greg, never tasting him enough. Relieving the pain he had caused by denying himself from this; remembering the moments when, had he not been reluctant to show himself, he would have kissed Gregory breathless; still feeling less than worthy, more than insecure about being able to protect this. But something in Greg’s smile and the way his eyes held the moon for him, made him carry on.

There was so much care and so much need at once, Greg strained and kissed gently for a few moements "I will not break, Sergeant" he said lips mere millimeters away from Greg's own as they finally reached the bedroom, he smiled as the older man pressed a hand helplessly through his hair, mussing it slightly with a ragged breath.

"Rather unfair this game you played, but doesn’t have to be rushed, does it?" he said smiling that ravishing half smirk "Plus I thought you wouldn't break when you pulled my entire weight in and pushed me up the door, mind you" Greg took a step forward and Mycroft didn't back out, didn't dare move. The look in Greg's face made it easy to stay, that staggering confidence in spite of knowing who he was taking to bed. Kicking the door closed 'In case you have a live in maid, she'd never look at you in the eye again' he giggled at Mycroft's snort and nudged him to the bed. They fell and bounced on the mattress undoing each other's belts and taking off their shoes.

Lowering those inches and meeting Greg's kisses was easy, they slowly burned him to the very core. It was perfect and fun in a strange way, Mycroft rarely had fun in the whirlwind of sex and this was so easy. Instinctive, organic as if they had done it so many times in their verbal banters. It was as soft and as rough as he wanted and as loving and impersonal as he needed. Gregory rolled them over and assaulted Mycroft's neck, then shoulders and chest, scraping teeth at the base of his ribcage, licking at the wet patch on his trousers as he undid them with a lewd smirk in his face. Oh, and wasn't it just easy to give in to that? Giving as ever, careful as it was his very nature and delicious, not minding the odd thrust into those gorgeous lips. Seeing those perfect features ridden with fervor and demands Mycroft would be only happy to comply.

Pulling the man back over himself, kissing him as if the Sargeant was air and he was desperate for a breath, then capturing Greg's hips between his legs, suddenly needing so much more. Fingers lacing. Kiss in a halt as they surrounded each other's lips as if they were animals cornering their prey. Greg shivered to a peck of Mycroft's lips and the younger man's hands caressing down his sides into his trousers to cup both buttocks unabashedly. Lips and tongue turning to the tribal tattoo on the Sergeant's shoulder, before slowly falling on the bed and looking up at the static man contemplating something. Biting those lips again.

"Yes, I want and the items you need are inside the drawer" he pointed at the bedside table, too calm for someone who had been half shagged silly.

Blinking twice with a bit of surprise in his features, Greg lowered for a kiss and hummed "Not that, Mike" he said mysteriously. Grunting slightly as he reached for the drawer, Mycroft simply enjoyed the movement of the man's muscles and caressed the hair in his chest thoughtfully.

The Sergeant was still regrettably guarded. Mycroft frowned, feeling a bit of guilt in the man's careful steps, he had terrified the genius once and driven him away in order to keep himself from being hurt any further. And there he sat up, looking down at Mycroft a question in his eyes, he simply sat up and muttered “Have I ever thanked you for being as relentless as you are?”

Placing a hand on Greg’s cheek and feeling it move as he smirked, happiness reaching his eyes “You did make it clear on how annoying you found it, so... No. Not going to start now, are you?”

Mycroft smirked lifting an eyebrow and let out a noncommittal sound, after all there was no need in stating the obvious.

Snickering Greg opened the lube and said nothing. He lifted one of Mycroft's legs with a caress and kissed at the inside of the man's knee. Mycroft fell on his back again and could cry, watching that selfless soul give him just a bit more, patiently opening him even if he ached within his pants. Mycroft saw the strain in Greg's features and preferred to give the man an opportunity to last a few rounds.

Tackling the man from the top and taking the condom, to roll it over his wanton prick, seeing Greg's ever still hands spasm as he was touched by Mycroft’s long fingers. It was a sight to have him on his bed, looking up. Eyes darkened further in his arousal, mussed hair and tongue flicking out knowing exactly what events would play now. Mycroft sat over his hips and started lowering himself over his engorged prick. Slowly and focusing on the slight strain, letting himself adjust, watching at the spectacle before him that was Greg panting desperately, blushing furiously and yet so controlled. Then people said Mycroft had a strong will, Gregory could charmingly surpass him at this very moment.

They started moving in unison, quickly falling into a frenzied pace, shagging each other senseless. And the pleasure was too much and orgasms were building up quickly. Greg sat up to kiss him, taking Mycroft’s own member in hand as the younger ma received him with arms open.

“God, you’re gorgeous” he said breathlessly.

Mycroft grunted “If you keep talking this will not last nearly enough”

“I’ll be glad to give you a second round” he said and they laughed for a moment. Looking at each other and kissing passionately.

Seeing how his handsome features contorted in pleasure was quickly sending Mycroft over the edge and he wanted to preserve that image for the rest of his life. No matter how long this could possibly last. Arching his back and letting himself go to the caresses, encouraged by Greg’s words and sounds, the nails digging at his sides and teeth pulling at his shirt and generous exclamations. They moved in unison and satisfied their need in an increasing despair, hand son each other, all messy kisses and improper exclamations as Greg's prick filled him and grazed over his very sensitive prostate, over and over again.

It wasn't until Gregory let out a string of curses and pressed Mycroft to the mattress, long legs over his broad shoulders as he fucked the younger man out of himself. It didn't take long when the genius finally had the chance to observe Greg's strain as he orgasmed and losing himself to pleasure. After such a sight, he could only follow. Both men fell exhausted and content in a post-orgasmic haze beside each other. Opening his pale eyes to see Greg still rebooting into a cognitive state, "Dear God, Mike..." he muttered softly. 'Indeed', thought the genius, 'strangely satisfying'. 

Observing Greg getting up to get rid of his trousers and pants, tossing them over a chair after folding them much to Mycroft’s approval. The red head looked at the handsome figure look into the door curiously and it was an en suite bathroom, so he went inside and cleaned himself a bit. Taking a wet towel with him, but the genius didn't feel like moving. An entire week of wrecking longing combined with regular visits to the CIA had made a mess out of his resolve to preserve the virtue of wharever this was...

Pale eyes trained on Gregory's careful movements as he cleaned him. Simple, only slightly bright, common looks (He had seen more enticing men before), kind heart hence deeply flawed. Greg looked up and smirked. And ground shook within his Mind Palace as a new room opened and galaxies realigned widening with every memory, every text, every call, every look, every kiss, every smile. His heart clenched and he sighed, 'But it is him' he thought and the goldfish in question hummed without knowing how he had just become something precious to the monster under his bed.

Taking off his torn shirt and setting it aside, Mycroft looked up and held on to Greg’s waist as he folded the towel and started his way to the bathroom. Taking the towel himself and tossing it to the floor. Busy making sure the older man was on the bed as soon as possible. Of course, there would be time for dinner after a few moments of sleep. Time for plenty of dinners after that and even more time for lewd and raw sex. Mycroft opened his bed, settling down with Greg's arm around his waist, both exhausted and content. He succumbed to sleep under the watchful gaze of his guardian and keeper, surrounded by Gregory's warmth.


End file.
